


junkie church

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Canon Compliant, Consensual Violence, Episode: s06e01 Broken, Intricate Rituals, M/M, Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital, Minor Greg House/James Wilson, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Alvie falls for House while in Mayfield.
Relationships: Juan "Alvie" Alvarez/Greg House
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28
Collections: Prompt Table Challenge: Musical Imaginations, Prompt Table Challenge: Shippy Building





	junkie church

**Author's Note:**

> **musical imaginations @ creativechallenges:** Junkie Church - AJJ  
>  **shippy building @ creativechallenges:** Singing a song
> 
> i chose 25 songs from 25 different artists and i'm going to try to write fics inspired by them. here's the first one, which took me right back to how i got into house md - via these two idiots.
> 
> enjoy!

Alvie doesn't know what is it about House that makes him so very attracted to him, like a moth to a flame. He just does. As soon as he walked into their room, he was filled with a need to kiss him, to get that frown off his face. He's handsome — he's so handsome it hurts to look at him for too long. He feels a bit like Icarus, when he thinks that. Obsessed with the sun, ready to get skin cancer if it means getting to it.

There's a quiet resolve on him, though, that House would never even look at his direction. So he doesn't love him in desire for reciprocation — he loves him because he can. He loves him because he loves him.

House, unsurprisingly, doesn't like being around him. He looks at him with some sort of distaste, some sort of disgust, that makes his whole body feel weak with shame at the fact he wants him. House's tongue is as sharp as it can be, upsetting anyone he can with the expressed purpose to upset them — he wants to get out of here, so he's aggressive, so he's mean.

"Can you cheek a pill?" House asks. He's desperate to get out of here, to get as far away from him as possible. He gets it. 

"No."

House smiles at him. "Well, that's too bad for you," he tells him.

He explains the plan. That he'll give Hal his pills so he'll give him his phone card, so he'll call Wilson (who, at this point, Alvie is sure is House's husband if anything), so he'll get him out of there via blackmail. The plan, of course, involves getting beaten up, but it's _fake_. It's for _show_. House says those words, so he'll be comforted.

But even then, House doubts when it's show time.

"Just do it already," he hisses at him.

This is what he does, in the name of what he loves. He lets himself be beaten up, even if just to get his hands on him. It'll be all he gets. That's enough, that's enough.

House grabs him by his shirt, lifts him up in one swift motion, and it's like his breath is stolen from him. He cries out as he punches him.

"Hey! Hey! Someone, help!"

He hopes it doesn't sound too fake. House hits him, punches him, not as hard as he could. He tries his best to seem angry, struggle against them as he gets pills pushed into his mouth. He's a great actor, he notes as he's taken to the nurses, to get checked up and to get some ice for his quickly forming bruises.

He goes to House afterward, as soon as he can. 

"That was amazing," he tells him. Your acting, he wants to clarify, but he doesn't.

House opens his eyes and drops the pills onto his palm. "You think Hal will mind if they're wet?" he asks.

He laughs and shrugs, presses the ice against his cheek. He grimaces at the sensation, but House's eyes are on him, insistent. For a moment he swears he can see _through_ him, can read every little thought he has about him, every motive and every daydream, every fantasy and every hope.

But House doesn't say anything.

* * *

Alvie's eyes widen when he sees House go toward the medication corner of the ward. 

"Why are you here?" he asks.

House raises a brow. "I'm waiting for my communion wafer," he tells him. He takes the pills and he seems to swallow them, and Alvie's heart squeezes in his chest.

"You're cheeking it, right?"

They have a pact, something to keep both of them in the same place, linked. Not taking their pills. Not wanting to take their pills. A statement against medication.

"Nope."

He goes and tries to grab House's face, tries to see into his mouth, see if he's cheeking them. He's lightheaded just at the touch, but he has bigger matters to worry about, like the fact House has broken their silent pact. "Tell me you're cheeking it," he insists.

House pushes him away harshly, nearly sends him tumbling over the floor. "I swallowed it."

"No, you didn't. We don't take meds."

" _You_ don't take meds, Alvie," he says. There's a certain annoyance to the way he says his name. "I decided to get sane."

"You're scamming again. You can tell me."

"I'm not scamming, Alvie."

"They broke you," he says, voice tight with sadness.

House shakes his head. "They didn't break me. I am broken." He huffs. "Now stop worshiping me and go worry about your own loser life."

He watches as he walks off, leaving him by the door, his heart in his throat. He doesn't understand. He wants House to be okay, but they had a pact. Meds won't help him get better. They'll just lull him into a false sense of security before everything goes wrong again. He knows these things, he knows them like the back of his hand.

"I hate you," Alvie tells him.

He doesn't. Even through this, he could never hate him. As much as he could try, he could never hate Greg House.

* * *

The talent show works out. The talent show works out and House raps with him and Alvie is so high off the happiness he might break down into tears at any moment, at any second.

"But at least we have each other!" House sings along with him, and he wants to soak on the moment, live in it, cling onto it for dear life. He wants to feel loved back, to be eaten whole by love. "Yeah, we have each other!"

House bows with him. He's ecstatic, running circles around him, trying his best not to explode and to say everything in his mind.

He doesn't say anything. But House smiles at him, and they're at a truce then. There's no need for words, then. House can tell he never hated him in the first place, that he was just desperate to connect with him, with a version of him.

He loves him. He could never stop loving him.

* * *

"Back off," House says as Alvie leans in for a hug. "People already think we're gay."

Alvie visibly deflates at that, eyes wide. People laugh, and he wants to hide for a second, before House smiles at him and opens his arms. He hugs him so tight it hurts, so tight he could drown in the smell of being in his arms. He draws in a shaky breath against his shirt, and he pulls away.

He watches as House leaves. He has no other choice but to watch him as he leaves. He has to get better, he tells himself, even if just to get the chance of seeing him again. His love may never be requited, but at least he will have something out of it. He will see him outside of Mayfield. He has to.

"What do you want, Alvie?" Dr. Beasley asks him, with her kind, fake smile he knows like the back of his hand.

"My meds," he says. "I want to get better."

When he goes back to his room ( _their_ room), he notices one of his t-shirts is missing. His heart pangs painfully in his chest, but he can't help but wonder for a second if this isn't as unrequited as he thought it was.

Perhaps following House's trail, seeing him outside the ward, wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all.


End file.
